


I Am But Clay

by Anonymous



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Ceramics Teacher Geno, Fluff, Lawyer Sid, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-19
Updated: 2017-11-19
Packaged: 2019-02-04 05:02:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12763740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: He swings his head around to look at the clock above the door. The instructor is five minutes late and Sid starts to fidget, his knee hitting the underside of the wheel and when he pulls it away there’s a streak of dried clay across his jeans.“So sorry I’m late, traffic, didn’t leave on time. You know.”Sid looks up at the man that’s torn into the room like a hurricane.He’s long limbed and graceful as he squeezes past the chairs on the opposite side from Sid.He struggles with the strap of his cross-body bag, knocking his toque off his head and revealing a mess of brown hair.When he finally lifts the strap over his head his grey coat and black t-shirt ride up revealing a strip of skin right above the waistband of his jeans.Sid stares until he lowers his arms and drops his bag onto the chair behind his desk. He shrugs out of his jacket and Sid catches the shape of his arm before he forces himself to look away.





	I Am But Clay

Sid sits in his rapidly cooling car in front of the plain brick building until he’s right on the verge of being late.

His nerves grow with each person that walks by his car and into the building.

He knows he’s being stupid. The last time he felt like this was the night before his parents sent him off to boarding school in the states where he didn’t know a single person and had to make a whole new set of friends.

This isn’t like that.

He’s thirty and this isn’t boarding school. This is a night class at the local community college.

Ceramics 101. Mondays and Wednesdays from 6:30 to 8:45 at night. Instructor-Evgeni Malkin.

Sid takes a deep breath as he rereads the course information to double check that he does indeed have the right date and place.

This wasn’t his idea but he can’t take anymore comments from his coworkers about how tired and rundown he looks.

Especially not with the way Kris lets him know. He can’t hear _“Crosby, you look like shit,”_ shouted at him from across the conference room as the senior partners of the firm settle in for their meeting.

Even his mother had expressed concern during their weekly Skype calls so when Kris sent him an email with a link to art classes Sid didn’t delete it right away.

Instead he rolled his eyes and walked down the hall right into his office.

Kris said nothing. He didn’t even take his eyes off his laptop as he typed but the corner of his mouth did quirk up into a smile.

“It’s an easy class,” he finally explained. “I took a couple of them last year with Cath. It was her idea but it was actually oddly relaxing. All you do is play with a ball of clay for a few hours every week and at the end of the course you get to go home with a mug of a vase or something. It’ll get you out of the house. You should do it. Maybe you’ll meet someone.”

Since turning sixteen Sid has moved to a different country, gone to college, studied abroad, passed the bar exam, interviewed for several high powered law firms in several different cities and finally landed a job where he’s quickly impressing his superiors.

He’s done all that but he’s currently having a hard time shaking off first day of school jitters.

It’s 6:25 when Sid unbuckles his seat belt and gets out of the car, locking it with the key-fob and stepping up onto the sidewalk.

 

Room 871 is almost full when he pokes his head in.

It’s a shockingly diverse group.

There’s a teenager with blue streaks in her hair and an older man in a sweater vest who is animatedly chatting with a middle aged woman sitting next to him.

There’s nothing about Sid that stands out in this group which is probably why no one looks up when walks in and sits down at a pottery wheel between a guy with shoulder length hair and a woman with a buzz cut.

There are bricks of clay stacked up in the corner wrapped in plastic and and plastic buckets with dried clay and different colored paint splattered against the sides and on the red lid.

The walls are covered with art work. Cherry blossoms and bowls of fruit and an abstract painting of a man in the nude.

There’s a color wheel and a piece of plywood with chips of ceramic glued to it, each one painted a different color.

There are ceramic hand prints lined up against the windowpanes with a poster that says _Make Art Not War_ hanging between the two windows.

There’s one empty pottery wheel at the front of the class and behind that a low desk that’s covered with bottles of paint and brushes.

He swings his head around to look at the clock above the door. The instructor is five minutes late and Sid starts to fidget, his knee hitting the underside of the wheel and when he pulls it away there’s a streak of dried clay across his jeans.

“So sorry I’m late, traffic, didn’t leave on time. You know.”

Sid looks up at the man that’s torn into the room like a hurricane.

He’s long limbed and graceful as he squeezes past the chairs on the opposite side from Sid.

He struggles with the strap of his cross-body bag, knocking his toque off his head and revealing a mess of brown hair.

When he finally lifts the strap over his head his grey coat and black t-shirt ride up revealing a strip of skin right above the waistband of his jeans.

Sid stares until he lowers his arms and drops his bag onto the chair behind his desk. He shrugs out of his jacket and Sid catches the shape of his arm before he forces himself to look away.

When he looks across the room the young woman on the other side catches his eye and raises her brow.

Sid looks down with a blush rising to his cheeks at being caught.

“Okay, class.” He claps his hands to get their attention and smiles. It lights up his whole face. “I’m Geno. So glad you’re all here and ready to learn. So sorry about being late won’t happen again, promise. Time very important to all of you and I don’t want to waste it. Plus they lock building up at nine. We all get stuck in here.”

A few people laugh and Sid has a horrific thought that Geno is going to make them go around the room and introduce themselves.

But he just grabs a pile of smocks off the hook by his desk and starts to hand them out.

“Everyone put on, keep clothes clean.” As he passes Sid he glances down at his clay covered jeans and winks. “Mostly clean,” he says and keeps on moving.

Sid tries not to feel too embarrassed as he ties the smock behind his back.

Geno spends the first half of class explaining the different types of clay and the parts of the wheel and the tools they’ll be using.

He makes them get up and follow him into the tiny closet in the back of the room that holds shelf after shelf of different color glazes and the kiln.

Then he grabs a ball of clay and shows them how to wedge and explains why it’s so important to get all the air bubbles out.

“Explode in kiln,” he says with a sad shake of his head as he presses down and away on the hunk of clay in front of him. “Destroy all your hard work. Even worse, could destroy classmates.” He clicks his tongue. “Bad for learning environment.” Then he slaps the clay down on the wheel. “Okay. Let's make something.”

Geno goes through the process step by step. He explains how to center and cone up and cone down and he keeps dipping his fingers into a pot of water next to him. His long fingers come out covered in dark brown water before he wraps them around the base of the clay next to the wheel and slowly drags them up.

Right before Sid’s eyes there’s a deep bowl with a flared edge where there used to be a shapeless ball of clay and Geno wraps a wire around his index fingers and slides it beneath the bowl to free it.

“See,” he says as he carefully lift the bowl off the wheel. “Easy.”

There’s a murmur of agreement and Sid looks around, bewildered. There’s no way he’s going to remember all that but half of the class has a notebook across their lap where they’ve been taking notes. He probably should have been doing that.

Geno seems to read his mind. “Good you guys are taking notes but don’t worry if you’re not. Plenty of time to learn and the easiest way to learn is to experience.” He unfolds his long legs from behind the wheel and grabs a bag of clay from the corner. “Everyone come up and take a piece. Tell me your name when you do. I’ll work on remembering.”

The woman across from him- who caught him looking- is named Carol and she takes her time getting her clay and introducing herself.

“We don’t have to wedge this first,” she asks and Geno shakes his head.

“Good you pay attention but no. Not firing these today. Not even making anything today. Today is just for playing around. Build something until he falls apart and then build it up again. Best way to learn.”

When he steps up to the table Geno is looking at him expectantly. He holds the clay out then pulls it back when Sid reaches for.

“Name?”

“Oh. Sid. I’m Sid.”

“Sid,” Geno says with a smile. “Nice to meet you.” He hands the clay over. “Go have fun.”

 

Sid wouldn’t call it fun or relaxing.

He struggles with every step.

First he can’t get the clay to stay on the wheel. It keeps sliding off.

“I think you have to throw it on harder,” Amy, the woman to his left says.

“I think maybe your hands are too wet,” Kevin says from his right.

“Think maybe you both right.”

Geno is standing directly in front of him with a rounded piece of clay in his hand.

“Start over. Make sure your hands are dry,” he says as he scrapes the clay off the wheel and gives him the new piece. “Really throw it down.”

Sid does what it says but it really doesn’t get better from there. He can’t seem to get it centered and he keeps putting his through the side of it when he tries to pull the sides up.

He knows he’s not supposed to be making _anything_ but it seems like everyone else in the class has created _something_ before it falls apart on them.

He’s just starting to feel overwhelmed by frustration when Geno stands at the front of the class and tells them it’s time to clean up.

Sid rubs his wrist across his forehead and shoves his fingers through the clay.

“See you all on Wednesday,” Geno says cheerfully as everyone pulls on their coats and hats.

Sid’s the first one out the door.

 

-

 

It doesn’t get easier on Wednesday.

Geno tells them they should try to make something that he’ll put in the kiln.

“I don’t care what it is,” he says as he ties the smock behind his back. “I don’t care what it looks like. Just do your best.”

Sid tries, he really does, but he can’t seem to form anything worth saving.

Amy makes a large platter almost on accident and Kevin makes a bowl no bigger than the side of his palm and Carol, somehow, makes a tall vase that Geno praises her for and makes Sid roll his eyes.

“How’s it going,” Geno asks him as he takes Amy’s empty seat beside him. She’s already got her plate off the wheel and set it out to dry.

“Not well.”

“What are you having a problem with?”

“Everything.” Sid sighs heavily and glances over at him. “Nothing I make looks right. It’s uneven or too thick or too thin.”

“All that is okay right now.”

Sid grumbles unhappily. He gets what Geno means but the idea of turning something in that’s less than perfect makes him itch.

Geno pats him on the shoulder. “Try to get something, okay? Lots of classes left so there’s plenty of time to improve. Don’t worry so much. Next week we’ll glaze these, I don’t want you to fall behind.”

In the end Sid takes a seriously wonky mug off the wheel.

Geno smiles at him as he puts it on the shelf to dry.

 

-

 

The following Monday Sid comes into class to find his misshapen mug sitting in the middle of his wheel.

He does a quick scan around the room to confirm that his is the most pathetic before he sits down and Geno starts the class.

Once everyone settles down he gestures to the bottles on the front table. “Today we talk about glaze.”

Sid decides on a dark blue glaze but doesn’t like the way that it looks when he finishes applying it.

When he admits it to Geno he reminds him that it’ll look different once it’s fired again.

Sid nods and grabs a bit of white paint and flecks it on with a paint brush.

It kind of looks like stars.

“Cute,” Geno says and walks off.

Sid puts the brush down and doesn’t fuss with it anymore.

 

-

 

Sid gently places the mug on Kris’s desk.

Kris looks up with the phone still pressed to his ear and Sid rocks back and forth from his heels to his toes.

“Okay,” Kris says into the phone, “I will double check on that for you and send you an email with what I find….I’ll send it as soon as I can. Talk to you soon.” Before he even gets the phone all the way down he’s saying “what the hell is that?”

“It’s a mug,” Sid says defensively. “What does it look like?”

“Not a mug.”

“Screw you,” Sid says as he swipes the mug back and holds it protectively in his hands.

“Sid, did you make that? Are you actually taking those classes?”

“You said it would relax me.”

“And is it?”

“Not when you’re being a douche about the things I make.”

“I’m sorry,” Kris says and holds his hand out.

Sid holds the mug tighter.

“I just want to see it. I’m not going to smash it or anything. I’m not a monster.”

He reluctantly hands it to him and Kris looks it over.

“Is this the first thing you’ve made?”

Sid nods.

“It’s not as bad as I thought.”

“Geno said he liked what I did with the glaze.”

“Geno,” Kris leans back with a Cheshire Cat grin on his face. “Well if Geno said he liked it then who am I to judge.”

“He’s the teacher,” Sid says slowly. “He would know.”

Kris hums and Sid leans across the desk to take his mug back.

“So are you having fun,” Kris asks, huge smirk still stuck in place.

“I’m not very good at it.”

Kris rolls his eyes. “That’s not what I asked.”

“I’m sure I’ll like it more when I get better at it.”

“You’re impossible,” Kris says then calls out to Sid’s retreating form. “Just do whatever Geno tell you to do and I’m sure you’ll be having fun in no time.”

Sid flips him off before he walks out the door.

 

-

 

His sleeves keep slipping down his arms.

There is clay all over his hands and he’s can’t step away from the bowl he’s trying to throw because it’s almost getting to the point where he doesn’t hate it.

He just needs to pull up the sides a little bit more and-

It collapses in on itself and Sid stops the wheel and tips his head back to sigh at the ceiling.

“Wheel is going too fast.”

Sid looks over towards Geno’s desk.

Geno has his chin propped up on his palm with a calm look on his face.

Sid wishes he could ever feel that relaxed in this room.

“I thought I slowed it down enough. This is the third time I’ve done this.”

“Takes time,” Geno says and Sid barely holds back rolling his eyes as he tries to hike his sleeves up by rubbing his forearms together. “Stop. Come here.” He rolls his chair halfway around his desk and Sid stands up, careful not to catch his foot on the pedal of the wheel.

Geno wraps his long fingers around Sid’s wrist and rolls his sleeve up, folding the fabric over instead of scrunching it up so it doesn’t slip down as easily.

When he’s done with one arm he does the same to the other.

His hands are warm and clean but bits of dried clay cling to the cracks around his nails and his palm, catching in the hair on Sid’s arms as they move.

Sid’s noticed it with his own hands. He can’t seem to ever really scrub all the clay away. It lingers beneath his nails or or between his fingers leeching the moisture from his skin.

Geno pats the folded sleeves then scoots back behind his desk then pumps some lotion onto his hands from the big bottle he keeps on his desk.

He rubs his hands together and Sid tracks the movement. His palms sliding together and fingers interlocking as the smell of lavender tries to overpower the earthy smell of clay.

“Getting frustrated,” Geno says and Sid snaps his attention back to Geno’s face but that’s not any better for his concentration.

His hair is neatly combed back today. Sid noticed he didn’t come in with a hat on, that’s probably why, and there’s a smudge of clay or dried glaze up by his temple. Like he went to scratch and itch and forgot his hands were dirty.

“Sid.”

He refocuses for the second time. “What?”

“You’re getting too worked up over this bowl. Try something else for a little while.”

“But I want to get this.”

“You will but maybe not right now or at all today. Still have lots of time.”

“I’m just gonna keep trying,” Sid said. “Thanks for the sleeves.”

Geno looked like he was biting back something before finally shaking his head slightly and replying “anytime.”

 

In the last few minutes of class Sid pulls off a bowl that actually looks like a bowl.

“I don’t hate it,” he says to Geno.

“Good. Take it off the wheel and clean up.”

Sid hesitates.

“What now?”

“If I touch it I’m afraid it’s going to fall apart.”

“Looks pretty solid. Nice base. Thick walls.”

Sid looks up at him with worried eyes.

“You want me to?”

Sid nods and hands over the wire.

“Most finicky student,” Geno mumbles as he slides the wire between the bottom of the bowl and the wheel. “You want me to bring it over to shelf too?”

“Yes, please.”

“Going to have to do it yourself next time,” he says as he walks away with the bowl. “Clean up your workstation. I want it spotless.”

 

-

 

Sid’s actually excited to go to the next class but it fades quickly when Sid doesn’t see his bowl out with everyone else’s pieces.

Geno pokes his head out of the room with the kiln and calls his name. “Should come here for a second.”

His bowl is cracked into a dozen pieces at the bottom of the kiln.

“What the hell?”

“Happens,” Geno says with a hand on Sid’s shoulder. “Sometimes things I make still explode.”

“But I did everything right. I wedged it exactly how you told me to. It was supposed to work.”

“You’re lucky it didn’t take out anything else. Telling the truth on the first day of class. People won’t like you.”

“I don’t really care if they don’t like me. At least that way I wouldn’t be the only one suffering.”

Geno laughs. “So dramatic. You make nice bowl once you can do it again. Don’t let this discourage you. Go set up.”

 

He’s in a bad mood for the rest of glass and the vase he tries to make keeps falling apart.

He eventually gives up and cleans his wheel with twenty minutes left of class.

 

Sid’s the first one out of the class.

He’s almost to his car when Geno bursts through the door and calls after him.

Geno’s not wearing a coat and when he steps beneath the parking lot light Sid can see the goosebumps on his arms. It’s just started to snow and the flakes are catching in his hair.

“Listen, know you upset about your bowl but you have to believe me when I say it’ll be okay. Really does happen to everyone, it just happen to you first. I could tell you were upset.”

Sid digs his hands further into his pockets and scuffs his foot across the wet pavement. He suddenly feels like a petulant child.

“It’ll get easier.” He backs up towards the door, the cold obviously getting the best of him. “See you next week, okay?”

“Yeah. I don’t know.”

Geno sways back beneath the light. It’s starting to snow a bit harder now and Sid kind of wants to give him his coat.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean I’m not sure I’m going to come back. Is it just a waste of everyone’s time at this point?”

Geno shakes his head slowly. “I don’t understand.”

“I’m not any good at it.”

“So you think the answer is to quit?”

“I took this class because it was supposed to help me relax. It’s not very relaxing to fail at everything I try to do.”

“I’m the teacher, Sid. You haven’t failed anything.”

“But everyone else is doing so well compared to me.”

“All that means is that you should stop comparing yourself to your classmates.”

“Then who should I compare myself to?”

Geno stares at him then says “I think you miss point. Listen, on Saturday I have a class for kids. You should come.”

“You want me to take a class with children?”

“You don’t like children?”

“No, I do, but it’s just that I’m not one. I mean, I’m already having a hard time keeping up with people my own age and now I’m gonna struggle to keep up with kids.”

“Don’t think you have to worry. Kids usually not very good and that’s the point. They make something that’s not so good and they don’t care. They’re just happy to make it.”

“But I want to make good things.”

Geno gives him a tight smile and takes a deep breath. “Just come. Don’t have to actually make anything if you don’t want to. You can help me keep kids from melting down. Clean brushes and help them wash their hands. Just think about it, okay?

“Okay.”

The look Geno gives him is almost shy. “Maybe after we can go get coffee and talk. If you want.”

“Oh.”

“Just think, okay? I have to go, gonna freeze.” He takes a few hurried steps towards the building. “Class starts at ten on Saturday morning. Drive safe!”

“Thanks, you too,” Sid yells after him and Geno throws a smile at him over his shoulder before he ducks through the doors.

 

-

 

The parking lot is halfway full when he pulls in at 9:30 on Saturday.

He almost drops one of the cups of coffee he’s holding when a kid comes tearing out of Geno’s classroom and almost collides directly into him.

A harried looking man apologizes as he comes out of the room and chases after the kid.

“It’s okay,” Sid says as he turns the corner into the classroom.

There are a few more kids and parents milling about and there are child sized smocks draped over all the pottery wheels.

Geno’s at the front table counting out chunks of clay and when he looks up and sees Sid he smiles.

“Hey,” Sid says and barely remembers to offer up one of the cups in the face of Geno’s fitted t-shirt and worn jeans. “I know you said we’d get coffee after but…”

Geno holds up one finger and quickly grabs two paper cups off the desk.

“It’s early.” He says. “Need lots of coffee when there are lots of kids.”

“How’d you know I’d show up?”

“Just hoped I guess. You ready to help?”

“What are they making?”

Geno holds up a bowl that fits in his palm. “Teach them how to make this. You’ll see that none of them actually turn out this way though and that’s okay. Next week they’ll come back and glaze it and then their parents can stop by and pick them up.”

“What if they explode in the kiln?”

“I already wedged all these. Should be okay.”

“Yeah, but what if they explode in the kiln?”

He hands Sid two balls of clay. “We hope for the best Sid.”

 

The kids are great.

They listen, for the most part, and they ask lots of questions.

Geno answers them all and with the patience of a saint walks around the room and corrects their form and helps them pull out the walls of the bowl.

Sid’s job is to make sure they don’t flood the wheel with water and to keep sleeves rolled up and to try not to laugh when the kids forget they have clay on their hands and wipe at their noses, leaving a streak of clay across their face.

He’s rolling up the sleeves of a little girl with bright red curls when Geno passes behind him with a hand low on his back. He pauses behind Sid as he talks to another student and keeps his hand there even after Sid straightens up.

Geno’s talking to one of the parents and only drops his hand when a kid calls for him from across the room.

“Okay,” Geno asks and Sid’s not even sure what he’s referring to but he nods his head anyways.

Every single bowl looks different from each other and wildly different from the one that Geno showed them.

Some of them would barely be considered bowls but all the kids are so proud that it doesn’t even matter. They all line up to drop their creations off so they can dry and Geno compliments each one.

Afterwards they quietly clean up together. Geno empties the dirty buckets of water into the sink and Sid cleans off the wheels.

He takes his time wiping off the last one and watches Geno bag up the unused clay so it doesn't dry out.

When Geno looks up he seems surprised that Sid is already looking his way.

“Sid, don’t know if you still want to get coffee but-.”

“Yes,” Sid answers immediately. “I do.”

“Good.” The pink across Geno’s cheeks grows a few shades darker as his smile grows wider. “I know a good place.”

 

The coffee shop is a few blocks from campus and there’s a bell above the door that jingles when they walk in.

There’s a broad shouldered blond guy behind the counter who happily waves at Geno with both hands when he looks up from the espresso machine.

When his gaze moves off Geno and onto Sid he points a finger at him. “Oh, is this-.”

“Quiet, Horny,” Geno snaps. “Here for coffee not for talk.” He touches Sid’s back again. “Should go find table. I’ll bring coffee over.”

Sid starts to unwind his scarf and grabs a table in the corner. He has a good view out the window and an even better view of Geno’s long body as he leans against the counter and waits for their coffee.

The barista, Horny-apparently, puts two mugs down in front of Geno and Geno shakes his head.

Horny’s smile is blinding as he waves Geno off when he tries to pay.

Geno doesn’t push back too hard and takes the cups and saucers and brings them over. They both looks handmade.

There are pink hearts drawn on the foam and Geno is very careful not to make eye contact with him as he takes off his coat and hangs it over the back of the chair.

“Is he an artist, too,” SId asks.

“He thinks he’s funny,” Geno answers and rolls his eyes. “Makes good coffee though so I keep coming back.” He takes a sip and licks the foam away from his upper lip. “So. You think you’ll come back next class?”

“I don’t know. I just don’t ever see myself getting better. It’s fun but-.”

“If it’s fun then do it,” Geno interrupts. “Not everything is competition. Don’t have to be best at everything.”

“I know that,” Sid says. “And I’m not the best at everything.”

“Just most things.”

“No. I’m just used to working hard at something and having it payoff and i’m really trying here but everything I make turns out like crap.”

“It’s not crap.”

“I think it is. I know I’m never going to be as good as you or make stuff like this.” He taps his finger on the saucer and Geon laughs and points to it.

“You think that’s good?”

“Yeah. It’s handmade, right? It looks perfect.”

“Yes, but look.” The plate wobbles just slightly when he pushes down on it. “Base isn’t even and look at the mug.” He holds it up at eye level. “See how the rim curves in just a little. Awful.”

“You can barely even see that.”

“I can. All I see.” He looks around the shop. “Something wrong with every single piece in here.”

“How can you even tell?”

Geno flips the saucer and points to the small engraved initials in the middle.

_E.M._

Sid looks up, confused.

“Evgeni Malkin,” Geno says.

“You made all these?”

“Every one. Horny and I are old friends so when he says he was going to open a coffee shop we made a deal. You see something that looks perfect but I see all the mistakes. If I let the mistakes overwhelm me I’d never make anything. Have to get new job, not be as happy. Have to learn to let things go. That’s what you have to do. If you want to keep going with the class. Don’t want to pressure you but like having you in class. Not supposed to play favorites but…”

“What could I have done to be a favorite?”

Geno looks down into his latte with a color rising on his cheeks again.

Sid’s grown fond of the look and he knocks his foot against Geno’s until Geno looks up.

“I think I’ll stick it out,” he says and Geno glances up.

“Finish your coffee,” Geno says. “Have some work to do.”

 

 

Geno sits right beside him in the empty classroom as Sid works with the clay on the wheel.

He touches Sid elbow lightly with damp fingertips and tells him to apply more pressure while he’s centering.

“Ninety degrees,” Geno says as he taps the underside of his elbow and Sid immediately fixes it.

Geno keeps him talking throughout the process. He asks him questions about his job and what he did for fun in college and about his family.

Sid tells him about Kris and what he said about his mug.

Geno shakes his head and mutters “douche.”

Sid laughs so hard he doesn’t even care that he puts his thumb through the side of the bowl and has to redo it.

“Good student,” Geno continues, “but douche to you. Hey.” Geno puts a hand on his shoulder. “Look.”

The bowl looks perfect to Sid. He’s not sure how it happened but as he slows the wheel and slides the wire underneath he can’t stop grinning like an idiot.

“I just hope it doesn’t blow up,” he says as he sticks it on the shelf.

Geno sighs. “Doing so well, Sid. We were being so positive.”

“I’m just trying to be realistic.”

From this close Sid can smell the hint of cologne beneath the smell of clay and the latte on his breath.

There’s a bit of clay dried in his hair by his temple and without thinking Sid reaches up to wipe it away with his thumb and pointer finger.

His palm cups Geno’s cheek and he can feel the stubble rub against the heel of his hand.

Geno angles his body more towards Sid and puts his hand on his shoulder.

“Okay,” he asks and this time when Sid nods he knows exactly what he’s saying yes to.

 

_Seven Months Later_

 

Sid comes in the door and drops his key in the bowl by the door.

They slide to the bottom right next to Geno’s and Sid stops to smile down at the ceramic key chain attached to Geno’s keys.

Sid made it for him for their one month anniversary and Geno had held it over his heart before he slipped his keys onto the metal ring.

He hears the water running in the kitchen and he quickly toes off his shoes and follows the sound.

Geno has his back to him as he fills a glass with water and takes a long drink.

Sid leans against the doorframe and watches.

“Hey,” he says and Geno turns around, lips still pressed to the rim of the glass.

There’s dust on his shirt and his jeans are messy and ripped meaning he has just come back from class and hasn’t had time to change.

Sid loves him like this. He just loves him.

Geno has his eyebrows raised as he swallows down the water.

He doesn’t get a chance to say anything before Sid is plucking the glass from his fingers and kissing him, hips and chests flush together.

Geno hums happily into the kiss and brings one hand up to the side of Sid’s face.

Sid breathes in and only smells the lavender hand lotion and only feels the clean soft skin of his hand.

They’re not perfect. They each have their flaws and rough edges and imperfections but Sid’s learned not to dwell on those. He can’t focus on those when everything else is so great.

“Good day,” Geno asks and Sid wraps his arms around his waist and tucks his head beneath Geno’s chin.

“It’s better now.”


End file.
